


Training

by Mar3n



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Light hurt, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mar3n/pseuds/Mar3n
Summary: Soap accidently hurts you during training, he is worried but you just find it hilarious.





	

You always loved the days where you’d get to train with just Soap. Most days they’d get 3 or 4 of you in a session together, but when they had missions, you and Soap would train alone together.

You grabbed your gear and headed to the training room they had at the base, grabbing a couple bottles of water on your way there. Soap was already there; he liked getting there earlier to warm up and work out with some of the weights beforehand. Which was a bonus for you as he’d already be glistening by the time you got there.

“Hey,” you said as you walked through into the room, trying not to stare at Soap as he finished with the weights.

“You’re late,” he walked towards you, wiping his sweat off with a towel.

“I’m not late,” you frowned, placing your bag in the corner and handed him a bottle of water.

“I said 11am, it’s 11:04,” Soap clicked his tongue in disapproval, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shit, you’re right; I’m so late.” Soap detected your sarcasm and huffed, turning back to stand in the centre of the room. “What are we doing today anyway?” You asked, taking a gulp of water before throwing the bottle on top of your bag and walking to Soap.

“Sparring? I can train you how to use a knife properly if you want.” He grabbed a plastic one from his pocket and flipped it around in his hand, not breaking eye contact with you.

“As much as I love knife acrobatics,” Soap glared at you as you mocked his knife art, “I haven’t sparred properly in a while.”

“You just want to get close to me,” he winked as he pulled off his shirt, which had been sticking to his body from the sweat. You tried to act like you hadn’t noticed, though.

“Watch it, MacTavish.” You positioned yourself into fighting stance.

“Or what, sweetheart? You can’t beat me.” Soap relaxed his face, trying to coax you into dropping your guard which hadn’t even been up for 20 seconds.

You swung at him, high, he dodged as you expected. He gave you a look of “you can do better,” and opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, you kicked him in the ribs and he buckled. Getting up quickly, Soap mumbled something unintelligible while shooting you a devious look. You shrugged and got on with it. A few punches here, a few kicks there, the two of you worked up a sweat very easily.

“You’re getting better, you know,” Soap said between his panting breaths. “I didn’t think you’d do this well this quickly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The two of you had stopped, for now, so you went to grab your water once more.

“You’ve only been here a few months; I thought you’d be terrible.” He laughed and gulped down half the water he had.

“Gee, thanks, Soap.” You said sarcastically before stretching and moving back to the centre of the room.

He smirked at you. “You want to go again?”

“Unless you’re getting tired, MacTavish. I know those old bones get to you sometimes.” You smiled, his eyes lighting up at the sight.

“That’s cold. I won’t go easy on you this time.” Soap flexed his right arm before swinging at you, shocked that you dodged his fist.

“You need to try harder than that,” you laughed as he swung at you multiple times more but you ducked and swiftly stepped back so that he missed.

Except for the last one; Soap hit you right in the jaw and you collapsed to the ground.

“Shit, [Y/N], are you okay? I’m so sorry.” Soap frantically knelt to the ground, scooping you up in his arms trying to check if he had hurt you.

“Nice one.” You laughed, moving your hand up to feel your jaw; it didn’t hurt much but the force of it stunned you.

“[Y/N], I hit you in the face and you’re laughing about it?” He was puzzled.

“Yes.” You sat up out from his embrace. “Did you think you could actually hurt me, anyway?”

“This is serious, you could have broken something, let me check.”

“Soap, really? You think they’d let me train with you - alone - if I could get hurt by you? It was more like a 5-year-old whacking me with one of their dolls.” You giggled at the thought. “No, wait - that would hurt more.”

He pursed his lips, in anger or frustration, you didn’t know.

“I don’t think you realise this, but you’re always more gentle with me than you are with the others. Touch as light as a feather, even when you’re trying your hardest.”

“Really?”

“You’re more like a stupid puppy than a trained soldier."

“Why are we friends?” Soap mumbled as he stood up.

“Hey! I’m great, I know you think so.” You stood, poking him in his shoulder.

He turned to you, he was a good few inches taller than you, forcing you to look up at him. You could feel the heat radiate off of him, he was that close.

“You think I like you?” Soap asked, almost worried.

“Well, I didn’t say that. But if you wanna admit something, now’s the time.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth but not saying anything. His eyes moved around your face, mapping it, almost as if he’d never seen it before. The steady rise and fall of his chest was now ragged, unsynchronised. He leant down and kissed you, his lips trembling against yours. You’d think with how confident Soap tried to be all the time, this is something he’d have no problem with. However, he found himself stuck like he’d never kissed anyone in his life. You kissed back, moving your hand to his mohawk, helping him ease into it. He relaxed, pulling you closer to his body, cupping a hand around your cheek, the other around your back. You were so lost in the moment, you barely noticed the clearing of a throat from the other side of the room. Soap pulled away quickly.

“I see you’re training Soap in other aspects,” Price said from the doorway. “We’re back, by the way. But if you want to continue, go ahead.”

“Well, I- uh,” Soap stuttered, embarrassed by Price finding him like this. You giggled at him, causing him to look down at you almost angrily until he noticed something. “You’re bruised.”

“I am?” You felt your jaw and right enough, there was a tinge of pain from where his fist had landed not ten minutes ago. “I guess you’ll just have to kiss it better then.”

Price rolled his eyes at the two of you and left before Soap even got the chance to lean down and kiss your jawline.

“Remind me why I waited months for that?” He asked you, rubbing his thumb over the bruise.

“Because deep down under that calloused exterior, you’re just a dork. A cute dork, though, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn't heard all of what you just said, but whatever you say.” He smirked and leant down to grab his shirt off of the floor.

“Fine. A very angry, beefy dork. Better?”

“Better.”


End file.
